


The Last Time

by Luthien



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-23
Updated: 2009-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthien/pseuds/Luthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's the last time, Rodney realises abruptly as John walks in through the door.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mcsmooch.

It's the last time, Rodney realises abruptly as John walks in through the door. He's clutching the chess set under one arm and carrying a canvas bag that opens to reveal beer, popcorn and what looks like every single other type of junk food they've shared in this room over the last six years. Except for those weird nuts they got from M4X-372 that time. There's no sign of them, which is probably just as well.

John looks a little sheepish as he catches Rodney checking out the contents of the bag. "I couldn't decide what to bring since this is sort of a historic occasion," he says.

"So you brought everything." It's the last supper, Rodney thinks a bit numbly as he watches John unpack the food. This really is it.

Rodney unfolds the chessboard, and sets up on the little table pushed up against the bed, leaving just enough room at either end for a bowl of snacks and a space to set down a beer. It's the last time for this, too. The last time they'll sprawl at opposite ends of the too-narrow bed and face each other across the chequered battlefield. The last time Rodney will have a chance to turn around John's fluke winning streak of the last few weeks before... The last time they'll push the table away as soon as the game is over, the pieces already forgotten, and reach for each other. The last time they'll come together in the middle of this bed, mouths and hands pushing aside the barriers, revealing hot, bare skin until there's nothing separating them: not inhibitions, and certainly not clothes. Until there's nothing left but naked want.

As it turns out, Rodney's wrong about pretty much all of that. He's just made his first move - on the chessboard - and John's just cracked open a beer when their radios explode into life with a string of urgent requests for their immediate assistance in the botany lab. John's eyes meet his in a look that Rodney has no problem at all in deciphering: this is the last time their weekly chess game in Rodney's quarters will be interrupted like this. And then they're on their feet and racing out the door to deal with the latest emergency.

It's hours later when they meet up again in the corridor on the way back to Rodney's quarters. Sheppard's hair is sticking out every which way, spiked stiff and hard in a couple of places with something that might be dried blood. His face is blackened with smoke, smeared here and there as if someone's briefly attempted to rub it off and then given up trying, and there are pale circles ringing his bloodshot eyes. He looks like a very creepy clown at the end of an exceptionally long day. His clothes are filthy.

Rodney's in a slightly better state, since he spent most of his time containing the main fire by shutting off the air supply to each of the labs in turn once everyone had been evacuated rather than trying to play the hero, like some people he could mention, and attempting to douse the flames with anything that came to hand. He's still fired up with anger at the stupidity that's not only destroyed his plans for the evening but also nearly took out a good chunk of the city as well. How those idiots could have forgotten in their excitement over refining their 'revolutionary' new fertiliser that ammonium nitrate is also commonly used as an oxidising agent in explosives...

"Hey, buddy. We're here," John says quietly, grabbing Rodney's arm to stop him continuing on down the corridor. It's only then that Rodney realises that they're back at his door.

The room is just as they left it: the chess game frozen in time, John's beer sitting in a small pool of condensation, and the popcorn untouched beside it. Rodney grabs a large handful from the bowl and stuffs it in his mouth. It's a little stale but not too bad. Still perfectly edible.

"Why don't you just keep the food?" John suggests dryly as he watches Rodney chew.

Rodney waves a hand to indicate that that would be fine with him.

"You'd better take the beer, too," John continues, bending to pick up the bag he brought it in.

Rodney swallows down the popcorn. "Fine," he says, a little surprised. It's not that John isn't usually pretty generous, but this is beer they're talking about here.

"And you may as well take the chess set as well," John adds matter-of-factly.

Rodney halts in the act of clearing the food off the table and turns to look sharply at John because there's just no way he's heard that right. John would never relinquish this chess set willingly. He doesn't ever leave it behind from week to week, even though they always play here in Rodney's-

Oh. Of course. Tonight's the last time, or at least it was meant to be if they hadn't been interrupted. Either way, this is it. It really is the end.

John smiles at him, a little uncomfortably. "I just thought..." He grimaces and shrugs his shoulders. "I may as well leave it here as take it with me. There's no real point if we're really going to... We won't be doing this any more." It sounds more like a question than it should.

"It's the right decision," Rodney says, and tries to sound like he means it.

"Yeah," John says, sounding about as sure as Rodney feels.

They stand there awkwardly, not saying anything and almost meeting each other's eyes.

"You could stay," Rodney says hesitantly. "Now, I mean. Tonight."

John straightens. "Nah, better not. Not much point in changing the routine now."

Rodney closes his eyes briefly. "So... I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow morning?"

"9.00am. On the dot."

They go silent again, not even trying to look at each other this time. Neither of them makes a move.

John clears his throat. "Rodney I..." he starts, but his voice trails off into nothing. His hands clench into loose fists at his sides and he makes a frustrated sound. Then he's striding forward, taking Rodney's face in his hands, kissing and kissing him like he never wants to let Rodney go.

John tastes of smoke. At first, he does. He tastes of smoke and foolhardy risks and desperation, and of Rodney's fear. Rodney groans into his mouth and pulls John closer, so he can feel him, solid and alive against him.

It's a good kiss, this last kiss. Of course it is. It wouldn't dare be anything less.

Finally the kiss comes to an end, and they part. John's fingers trail down the side of Rodney's face as he steps back, like he's reluctant to let go.

They stand there, looking at each other again, but the silence that fills the space between them feels different now. Surer of what has to happen next. More determined.

John takes a deep breath. "So... This is it."

"Until the morning."

"Until the morning." John nods slowly. And then, like a shot, he darts back into Rodney's space for just a second, stubble scraping Rodney's cheek as he plants a swift, hard kiss just below his ear and presses something into his hand.

And then he's gone, the door swooshing closed behind him before Rodney has time to so much as blink.

The last evening is over. And now there's just the night to get through. Alone.

Rodney opens his fingers and takes a look at what John left in his hand. He lets out a bark of laughter. It's a nut, one of those ones from M4X-372. It resembles a walnut, though it's nearly double the size. It's nothing terribly special, just a nut. It's perfectly harmless on its own, but eat enough of them in one sitting and you'll end up more relaxed than you bargained for. More uninhibited, too.

They'd eaten an entire bowl of these nuts on what turned out to be the first night. 'Sentimental' isn't a word he's ever thought to apply to John, but then there used to be lots of words he never would have thought to apply to John, before the night they ate that bowl of nuts. It's sort of appropriate to have one last one now, on this last night.

Rodney doesn't eat it.

Instead, he goes into the bathroom, intending to take a bath, but he stops as he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror. His face is dirty with soot that wasn't there before. He feels like he's been marked. Anyone could knock on his door right now, could come straight in and see the proof of what he's just been doing, visible right there on his face.

He's okay with that, he's pretty sure.

* * *

Rodney arrives in the gate room the next morning just as John's stepping out of the transporter. Their eyes meet: this is it. They fall into step and walk side by side up the stairs to Woolsey's office. John flashes Rodney a slightly strained smile when they stop outside the door.

"Ready?" John asks.

"Ready," Rodney says firmly.

They go inside.

It takes longer than Rodney expects. Not because Woolsey has any objection - on the contrary, he's been hoping that some of the senior staff would lead by example with regard to this particular issue. He just never expected it to be the two of them. Not both of them. Together.

"You want- You what?" Woolsey says. Again.

"We want to move in together. Share quarters. The whole... thing," John explains.

"Together." Woolsey enunciates the word carefully, as though worrying that its dictionary definition may have been somehow altered when he wasn't looking. "You mean...?"

"Yes, we _mean_ ," Rodney says, losing patience. "What's the big problem? You wanted someone - some _two_ \- to come forward, to be willing to go first and put up with all the curious stares and unwanted attention in this brave new post-Don't Ask, Don't Tell world. Why is it such a problem that we're the ones who've volunteered?"

"It's not a problem," Woolsey assures them hastily. "I'm only too pleased that... Well, it's bound to solve a lot of problems before they have a chance to occur. It's just... It's a little surprising, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Surprising," Rodney repeats. "You mean you didn't guess?"

"My initial reaction to your request may have been a little more graceful if I'd had some inkling beforehand, don't you think, Doctor McKay?" Woolsey says dryly.

"You really had no idea?" John asks, and it's clear he's finding it hard to believe, too. Rodney's obviously not the only one who thought they'd given themselves away too many times already to anyone who cared to look.

Now it seems like maybe no one was looking. Not Woolsey, anyway.

"Was I supposed to?" Woolsey replies, resting his chin on steepled fingers.

"It doesn't really matter now, does it?" John points out. "The important thing is that you grant our request for new quarters and we get the ball rolling on this."

"Request granted. Just make sure to submit the appropriate form. You're the ones who asked to make it official," he adds, at Rodney's irritated huff. "I imagine I'll get around to signing off on it... oh, within five minutes of receiving it?"

John grins at him, and stands up. "Come on, Rodney," he says, tugging on Rodney's arm and all but hauling him to his feet. "We've got packing to do."

"Stop that." Rodney swats at John's hand. "I'm perfectly capable of independent movement and have been for some decades now. Or is this just what I should expect my life to be like from now on?"

John rolls his eyes and pulls Rodney across the room anyway. They're going to have to have words about that. Later.

John stops in the doorway and turns back to Woolsey again, forcing Rodney to stop, too.

"Mr Woolsey," John says. "Just... thanks."

Woolsey smiles. "Colonel, Doctor, may I be the first to offer my congratulations? I feel sure - I _know_ \- I will be far from the last." And he comes over to shake their hands.

* * *

It's early evening by the time they close the door of their new quarters behind their willing but somewhat shell-shocked helpers. They're really going to have to work on the whole reaction thing in the days to come, though Rodney still doesn't get why absolutely nobody seems to have guessed before the news broke. He's feeling a trifle put out about it.

But still, they've ended up here, together. That has to count for something, too. More than something. It counts for a whole lot. Rodney thinks he's going to enjoy living here, and not only for the company. It's going to be nice to have a little more space to spread out in: a place for everything, and everything in its place, as his mother used to say. Rodney likes that idea, even if he's only ever mastered the first half of it, though John will probably do better with the second. He's a neat freak, like every other military officer Rodney's ever known, but he's going to have his work cut out for him here. Right now, the place is a mess, with boxes stacked everywhere, and there's, well, there's _stuff_ strewn from one end of the room to the other: clothes and bedding and books and random bits of technology, not to mention a set of golf clubs and a guitar and... a chess set.

John looks up from the box he's unpacking and follows the direction of Rodney's gaze. "Want a game?" John asks, coming over to stand beside him.

"No," Rodney says, and pulls John around so they're face to face. "I don't need the excuse any more."

He's the one to instigate the kiss this time, though John comes along for the ride as willingly as always. Rodney traces the lush swell of John's lower lip with his tongue, stroking slowly up and into John's warm, wet mouth. John doesn't taste of smoke any more, or of anything else but that indefinable something that is John himself. It's the sort of taste Rodney can lose himself in, so very easily, but he's determined not to do so, not this time. This is something to be savoured, this first kiss after the end of the old life and the beginning of the new.

Not to mention the second kiss. And the third...


End file.
